Teenage Wasteland
by rlylaughable
Summary: Penhall and Hanson embark on a dangerous new mission...inside an alternative high school.
1. Prologue

"Juvenex?" Penhall said, incredulously, "What kind of a name is Juvenex?"

"It stands for Juvenile Experiment," Fuller absentmindedly replied, flipping through the file.

"Are we after the person who named it, because I think they're definitely using something," Penhall muttered.

Fuller shot him a glare.

"Homicide."

Hanson lifted his head, which was formerly resting on the tabletop.

"A teacher, Florence Edwards, was found in the school parking lot, in her car; dead."

"Cause of death?" Hanson asked.

Fuller leaned back in his chair.

"A staple,"

Penhall was impressed that Fuller could keep a straight face while saying that.

"Um, what?" Hanson said.

"Someone stapled into her carotid artery, in her throat. She bled to death."

"Okay, so we're dealing with some creative kids," Penhall said.

"Juvenex Academy is an alternative high school," Fuller began.

"An exciting one," Hanson said, reading off the brochure.

Fuller narrowed his eyes.

"Sorry," Hanson meekly replied, setting the brochure back in the file.

"So, some of these kids are criminals. Some of them are mentally ill. Most of them do drugs."

"So we'll have a few more suspects than usual, no big deal." Penhall said.

"Look, I'm just saying to be on your toes. These kids are obviously not normal. The knowledge you've acquired in past assignments may not apply here."

Penhall nodded.

"You start tomorrow," Fuller said, getting out of his chair.

"The McQuaid brothers!" Penhall cheered.

"Heh." Hanson quietly added.


	2. Chapter One

Hanson's hands were shaking. This concerned Penhall, as they were currently driving down a pothole ridden road.

"It's just another assignment. Don't get so worked up,"

"I know," Hanson muttered, "It's just…a staple, man. These kids make random household objects into weapons."

"But they're still just kids! We are trained police officers!"

Hanson nodded, but he was still trembling.

A lawn came into view. It stood out against the brick and steel of the industrial park surrounding it. A square sign sat in the middle, that read,

'Juvenex Academy: An Exciting Alternative High School'.

Hanson pulled into the parking lot, and almost hit a forklift. There was a marble plant next door, and Penhall could hear Billy Joel faintly playing over the clashing and clanging of machinery.

"What is this place?" Penhall said, looking around.

"It's exciting," Hanson said, as he parked.

They walked into the school, through one glass door, then another. It was seemingly empty. The only other people Penhall could see were a circle of kids, sitting next to a wall in between two doors. There was a large yellow poster on the wall, that said,

'The mission of Juvenex Academy is to provide a caring, well-structured learning environment where academically, emotionally, and/or socially needy students can develop the necessary skills to become productive citizens.'

Penhall scoffed.

'_Productive citizens, my --'_

"We're supposed to go in there," Hanson said. He led Penhall to a door, near the circle of kids. Penhall saw them staring.

Hanson knocked on the door. A bald man answered.

"Come on in," he said, in a strangely soft voice.

The room was painted blue, and covered in various posters with 'My Future' written morosely on them. No two chairs in the room were alike. Hanson sat in a blue rocking chair; Penhall, a cushy red one.

"I'm Kevin," the bald man said, "I'm the vice principal and counselor."

Hanson gave a timid nod.

Penhall rolled his eyes at this.

"So?" he grunted, in his Doug-McQuaid-boisterous-semi-retarded voice.

Kevin grinned, and handed him a piece of paper.

"There's your class schedule," he said. He gave one to Hanson as well.

"If you don't know where a room is, ask someone. The layout here is pretty easy to figure out, anyway. You're both in all each other's classes."

Hanson smiled slightly. Penhall wanted to kick him.

Kevin opened the door.

"Welcome to Juvenex,"

Hanson quickly walked out. Penhall sighed and strode out, brushing roughly against Kevin. When he turned back, he saw that Kevin didn't break his smile.

When Penhall turned again, he saw Hanson talking to a really short girl. Penhall came up to his side.

"Who are you?" he bluntly stated.

The girl grinned.

"I'm Violet. I was just telling your brother that you're welcome to sit with us."

Penhall grunted and grabbed Hanson's collar, pulling him.

"Bye," Hanson said, before being dragged away.

Penhall led him to a deserted corridor.

"What are you doing?" he growled as he let go of Hanson.

"Um…"

"We are the McQuaid brothers, not the Bashfully Polite brothers."

"Yeah, well, who knows what'll set a kid off here?"

"They aren't fucking time bombs!"

"How do you know?"

"They're just _high school kids_, how much damage can they do?"

"They killed a teacher with a stapler!"

A monotone bell sounded.

"What was --"

A herd of kids thundered up the stairs. Hanson took off in the opposite direction.

Penhall followed him, grumbling curse words the whole way.


	3. Chapter Two

Penhall finally managed to calm Hanson down enough to get him in class. Penhall was now leaning his chair against the wall, the way everyone says not to, watching Hanson choose his syllabus.

The English teacher was tall, and walked around carrying a yardstick, like it was a cane. He was knocking it against his desk, every tap making Hanson twitch, as he read down the list,

"…Marxism, Novel Reading, Postmoderism, and Horror Literature."

The teacher glanced up at Hanson.

"Well?"

"Um…"

The longer Hanson stuttered, the more annoyed the teacher looked. Penhall finally, mercifully, yelled,

"Video games!"

"Okay," Hanson said immediately. The teacher rolled his eyes and clicked the mouse.

"It's on the printer. Down the hall,"

Hanson stood and carefully wandered out, as to not accidentally offend someone with his movement. Penhall sighed.

The teacher now turned his attention to Penhall.

"What's your name again?"

"Doug. What's yours again?"

"Justin."

"I mean your teacher name."

"Justin."

Penhall blinked.

"So, I'm supposed to call you Justin?"

"No."

Penhall vigorously chewed a pen.

"Fine, _Justin_."

"What syllabus do you want?"

"Video games, too, I guess."

Justin nodded and clicked again.

"Printer,"

Penhall leaned forward, bringing the chair to the ground with a thump. He stood, snorted, and walked out.

When he got to the printer, he saw Hanson peering into a classroom.

"What are you --"

"Shh!" Hanson motioned for him to join in the spying.

"What are we looking at?"

"I think I found our first suspect."

"Who?"

Hanson pointed,

"Him."

The kid looked pretty normal, wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He was walking strangely. Like he lacked knees.

"Why him?"

"He made a joke about the teacher."

"So he doesn't have respect for the dead."

"He also has shifty eyes."

Penhall squinted to get a better look.

"You're right, they _are _shifty."

"See?"

"Okay, we'll talk to him later, but we'd better get back to class."

"No, I think we should --"

Sighing, Penhall grabbed Hanson's collar and dragged him away.


	4. Chapter Three

The monotone bell sounded. Penhall grabbed a petrified Hanson's collar and dragged him out of the room. A kid in there had begun ranting about dolphins colonizing the moon. Hanson was convinced that the kid was psychotic and on the edge of a homicidal rampage. Penhall tried to convince him otherwise,

"His nose is so big, he couldn't aim well enough to kill anyone."

That didn't really help.

It was time for lunch. The two wandered through the school, looking for a cafeteria.

They walked up the stairs, to see the circle of kids again.

"Maybe they can help us," Penhall said, pulling Hanson along.

They approached the circle, the kids looking up.

"Hey, um…" Penhall began.

"We get food from a catering car. It's outside." Violet chirped, smiling.

"Thanks." Penhall muttered.

As he started to drag Hanson again, Hanson pulled back.

"I'm, uh, not really hungry. I'll just stay here."

Penhall glowered at him.

"You're just scared."

"Um, duh,"

Sighing, Penhall released Hanson, and stomped outside by himself.

A big white car was parked in front of the school. The kids slowly circled it, like a pack of coyotes moving in on their prey.

Penhall saw the potential suspect. He carefully approached him, trying to be nonchalant.

"Hey." he said.

The kid turned, and leaned back a little. His eyes were open wide. He looked like he thought that Penhall was some sort of extraterrestrial life form.

"Hello." he said, cautiously.

"I'm Doug."

"Zach."

There was silence. Zach made a torpid movement toward a plate of toqitoes.

"Is it true that a teacher from here got killed?" Penhall decided to skip the small talk.

Zach's eyes began shifting furiously.

"Yeah,"

"What was she like?"

"Complete and total bitch,"

Penhall nodded.

It got quiet again. Zach paid for his delicious Mexican dish and began walking away.

"See you later."

"Yeah, bye,"

Zach began to waddle back to the school. Penhall pondered what ulterior meaning Zach's words might have had as he paid for a large poppy seed muffin.

When Penhall got back inside, he saw Hanson sitting with the circle. These kids didn't seem particularly suspect to Penhall, but it couldn't hurt to get more opinions on Florence.

Penhall plopped on the ground, next to Hanson, who appeared to have loosened up.

Violet beamed at him.

"Welcome!"

Penhall grunted in response.

Violet started to introduce the group,

"This is Mia…" She pointed at a girl with short hair, sparse strands of bang hanging in over her forehead. She had a laptop sitting on her legs, and was wearing a shirt that read, 'Genius'.

"…Alice…" A freakishly tall girl, dressed in all black, with black eyeliner circled around her light eyes.

"…Josh…" He had long blonde hair, topped with a fedora, and was wearing green leopard print shoes. This outfit confused Penhall profusely.

"…Nathan…" A kid with black hair raised his hand in acknowledgment. He was wearing a black t-shirt, jeans, and plaid Converses.

'_Apparently footwear choices are affected by mental illness.' _

"…Dwayne…" He was curled into a little ball, sleeping. Mia smacked his head.

"What?" he growled drowsily. Penhall was struck by his uncanny resemblance to Harry Potter.

"We have new kids. This is Doug, and this is Tom." Violet said.

"Hey." Dwayne grumbled, and returned to his previous position.

Mia rolled her eyes,

"Ignore him."

Penhall nodded.

"And, finally," Violet said, "Milton." She pointed to an acne pocked kid, who subsequently glared at her.

"Stop pointing at me."

Violet quickly retracted her arm.

Milton suddenly took off, out the door.

Penhall glanced at Hanson, who was staring off, after Milton, a puzzled look on his face.

"What --" Hanson began.

"He wants more food," Alice said, "He never buys enough the first time."

"Huh." Penhall grunted, cramming a piece of muffin into his mouth.

The group continued eating. Hanson maintained a nervous, stony silence.

"So…" Penhall said, "I heard a teacher got killed."

The members of the group all grinned at each other,

"Ding-dong, the witch is dead!" they began singing in unison, "Which old witch? The wicked witch! Ding-dong, the wicked witch is dead!"

"Okay, I get it!" Penhall said, "You didn't like her."

"Complete and total bitch," Mia said, nodding. The rest of the group gave various grunts of agreement.

"Is that, like, her official title?" Penhall asked.

"Basically," Violet chirped.

"Do you think a student might have killed her?"

"Anyone could have killed her." Mia said, while she typed.

"I mean, did anyone in particular have a grudge against her?"

"What are you, some kind of cop?" Dwayne grumbled.

"No, I just don't want to offend the wrong person."

"It really could have been anyone. Everyone, seriously, _everyone_, hated her." Alice said, shoving her trash toward Nathan, who began stuffing it into his empty soda bottle. Hanson watched, fascinated.

Milton returned, and promptly started stuffing his face with pizza bagels.

"Not everyone," said Josh, "Elijah loved her."

"Yeah, well, Elijah's insane," Mia mumbled.

"Who's Elijah?" Hanson asked.

The group was quiet for a minute.

"Have you heard anyone talking about dolphins colonizing the moon?" Violet asked.

Hanson shuddered.

"Yeah," Penhall said.

"That's Elijah."

Penhall nodded, making a mental note to talk to this Elijah person.

Suddenly, shouting came from below the atrium,

"Fuck you!"

"Shut the fuck up, you fucking asshole!"

"You shut the fuck up!"

It went on like this for a few minutes before Penhall said,

"Who --"

"One of them is definitely Nikki," said Mia, "The other could be any number of people."

"Who's Nikki?"

"The angriest person on the face of the Earth," Alice said, "Apply what they say in Russia to her: the farther you stay away from the czar, the longer you stay alive."

Mia gave a deep sigh.

"What?" Alice asked.

"Geeeeeeeeeeek." Mia said, exasperated.

"Shut up."

The monotone bell rang. Kids began filing up the stairs. Hanson started to run, but Penhall grabbed him before he was able to get very far.

Penhall dragged him to their next class, Hanson going into spasms whenever they were within two feet of anyone.


	5. Chapter Four

_A/N: Alas, the ability to edit my story once posted evades me. I fear I shall have to write my A/N pre-posting. Pity me! (It may do you good to ignore my meaningless rambling, such as this, in the future. 'Why not just stop rambling?' you may ask. I answer with a very rare silence)_

_ahem ANYWAY, this is my first fic, so copious thanks to smrt1 for her help, suggestions, and provision of hilarious 'Doctor Who' macros._

_The reviews I have already received are loved and appreciated, and future ones will be as well!_

"We have a couple of new kids," Kevin said, "That means introductions. Who wants to go first?"

No one raised their hand, and some of them actually seemed to be glaring at Penhall and Hanson. Penhall hoped Hanson didn't notice this, for that would surely send him spiraling into a panic attack.

Finally, someone started talking,

"I'm Cody, I'm 16, I'm here because I smoked pot and ditched." He was wearing a black Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt. His jeans looked as if they were actually on properly, rare for a boy, but upon further scrutiny Penhall discovered that they were pulled down, almost deliberately, off of his butt.

More kids introduced themselves, Penhall only paid attention to the suspicious looking ones.

Finally, it landed on Hanson. He gulped rather audibly.

"I'mTomI'm17I'mherebecauseIgotexpelledfordealing." Hanson was staring intently at the ground as he said this, his entire body taut.

Penhall mentally smacked his forehead.

"I'm Doug," Penhall grunted, "I'm 18, I'm here 'cause I got expelled, too,"

Kevin nodded.

"This is Guys Group. Every Thursday, we get together and talk about issues. Emotional, political, any kind,"

Hanson gave an adrenaline-fueled nod. He was obviously in fight-or-flight mode, leaning more towards the latter.

Penhall snorted.

"Moving on…" Kevin said, "As you all know, Florence was killed recently. Any thoughts or feelings on this subject?"

Elijah raised his hand.

"I can't believe she's really gone," he said, met with snickers and eye rolling, "She was alive three days ago. Now she's not. It's hard for me to process…"

Penhall nudged Hanson, who leaned in.

"What?" he whispered.

"I talked to Zach, your suspect suspect."

"And?"

"He doesn't seem, you know, _there _enough to commit first-degree murder."

"Hm."

"Are we considering anyone else?" Penhall asked.

They both surveyed the room.

"Well…" Hanson said, "I think we can safely rule out Elijah."

"Agreed,"

Elijah ended his speech, thankfully without mention of dolphins.

"Anyone else?" Kevin said.

A kid, Penhall believed his name to be Elliott, raised his hand.

"How did she die?"

Kevin smiled.

"We can't say, I'm afraid,"

Elliott looked disappointed.

"Anyone else?"

Penhall was trying to decipher their feelings based on their expressions. None of them were nervous, or at least didn't appear nervous.

Josh had begun to hum 'Ding-Dong, the Witch is Dead'.

Kevin ended that subject and began a new one. Penhall was still studying his peers, looking for any distinguishable sign of guilt.

Group ended, and Penhall still had nothing.

Penhall started to walk out, but remembered Hanson; Hanson, who was currently tightly gripping his chair in fear.

"Just loosen one finger at a time," Penhall said, "There's no one here now, it's okay,"

Finally, Hanson let go.

"Do I need to drag you?"

Hanson nodded diffidently.

Smiling slightly, Penhall grabbed Hanson's collar.


	6. Chapter Five

_A/N: I love my reviews and reviewers! You are all beautiful and unique snowflakes! I dance (well, the equivalent of dancing when one is sitting) with glee at every one! Just thought I should let you all know so you keep doing it._

"I'll drive." Penhall said, cutting in front of a just-about-to-open-the-door Hanson.

"I'm fine, I can do it."

Penhall lifted Hanson's hand from the door handle.

"No, you can't. You almost hit a forklift this morning."

"I was nervous!"

"And you aren't now?"

"No." Hanson said, before yipping, leaping back about three feet, and hitting the ground.

Penhall glanced up, to see a kid with a grotesquely tiny waist walking by, casually jingling his car keys.

Penhall just grinned.

"Fine," Hanson exhaled, as he got up off the asphalt.


	7. Chapter Six

"What have you got?" Fuller asked, reclining.

"A school full of suspects,"

"Anyone in particular?"

Pause.

"No." Penhall quietly stated.

"Everyone we talked to hated her." Hanson said, with a yawn.

"I hate cheesecake, doesn't mean I want to murder it with a staple." Fuller said.

"How can you hate cheesecake?" Penhall disbelievingly said.

Fuller glowered.

"Sorry." Penhall mumbled.

"Was there any kid who seemed particularly unstable?"

The two pondered for a few moments.

"Milton." Hanson finally said.

Penhall nodded.

"Good. Stick with him."

"Can we go home now?" Hanson asked.

Fuller nodded.

"You might want to see someone about your nerves." Penhall told Hanson, as they were walking out.

"What nerves?"

Penhall let the silence say everything.

"Okay, fine," Hanson sighed, "I'll talk to the counselor tomorrow."

Penhall nodded approvingly and sauntered out. Glancing back, he saw Hanson struggling to grip his keys.

Penhall sighed.


	8. Chapter Seven

_A/N: Admittedly, the chapters are pretty short. Brevity is the soul of wit, right? That's just my writing style. But, to satisfy all my lovely readers, I'll post more chapters at a time._

_Thanks for the reviews!_

"Weehee!" Dwayne squealed, leaping about the room.

'_There are no words to describe to limitless depth of pity I currently feel…'_

Dwayne's foot knocked off a book, causing it to hit the ground with a loud thud, thus sending a shock wave spasm through an otherwise petrified Hanson.

'…_astonishing in its intensity…'_

"Dwayne didn't take his meds today!" Dwayne yelled.

'…_ever-expanding as the universe…'_

Dwayne jumped from table to bookshelf to chair, all in way too close proximity to Hanson. The class had tried to calm Dwayne before, but to no avail.

'…_pure, unadulterated…'_

Finally, Hanson broke and darted under a table.

Penhall rolled his eyes.

'_There are also no words to describe my thankfulness that this condition is not contagious.'_

Marisol, the teacher, coolly entered.

"Dwayne."

Dwayne suddenly stopped.

"Sit."

He tumbled into the nearest chair.

Marisol walked over to the table.

"Tom?"

Hanson peeked.

"I think you should go see Kevin."

"Excuse me?" he said, while crawling out.

"I think you should go see Kevin." she said again, a little more intensely.

Hanson began to protest, but caught Penhall's vehement glare, and shuffled out of the room.

The class gradually went back to work, Dwayne twitching with hyperactivity.

"Has your brother always been the nervous type?" Mia asked, while typing.

Penhall paused for a moment, then nodding. It was too late to salvage the McQuaid reputation.

Penhall sighed.


	9. Chapter Eight

Hanson left Kevin's room about halfway through lunch. He leadenly sat on the floor next to Penhall.

"Can I have one of those?" he quietly asked, pointing to Penhall's chips.

Penhall nodded.

"Thanks." He took a small bite.

The rest of the group was too busy comparing the Juvenex infrastructure to Word War II to notice Hanson's glumness.

Milton got up to throw something away.

"I think I'll go tackle Milton." Dwayne said.

The group ignored him.

Dwayne jumped to his feet and raced after Milton.

"Oh, shit." Nathan stated. The other members turned, the looks on their faces saying the same.

Dwayne sprung on Milton's back.

They both hit the floor.

A few silent seconds passed, before Milton screeched,

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

Dwayne raced away.

Milton grabbed a chair and chased after him.

Penhall glanced at Hanson, who was extremely pale.

The rest of the group was laughing hysterically.

"Do you think we should do something?" Penhall whispered.

Hanson didn't respond.

Penhall snapped his fingers, bringing Hanson back to reality with a twitch.

"Should we do something?" Penhall whispered, more strained this time.

"Is it worth blowing out cover?"

Penhall pondered.

Marisol was now between Dwayne and Milton. Kevin was talking to Milton, who was slowly beginning to lower the chair.

The only member of the group who looked even mildly concerned was Violet.

"Does, uh," Penhall asked, having decided that the teachers had this under control, "Does this happen often?"

He waited for them to regain their breath.

"Yes," gasped Josh, "But not always on such a large scale."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but Milton has what they call 'anger management issues'." Mia was breathing heavily.

"Yeah, I kind of got that."

It got quiet.

"This anger tends to manifest itself violently." Alice said. The rest of the group gave various grunts of agreement.

Penhall nodded.

Milton and Dwayne were being led into a room by Kevin.

"Where are they going?"

"Conflict resolution," Violet chirruped.

Penhall waited for someone to explain further.

"Basically," said Nathan, "You and the person you have a conflict with sit in a room with Kevin and talk it out." 

Penhall nodded.

"Does it work?"

It was quiet again.

"Not really." Mia said, "In the end, the only thing that really solves conflicts here is a fight."

"Like the time Violet beat up Dylan." Alice added.

"Excuse me?" Penhall asked.

"Dylan was teasing us, and we had a conflict resolution, but it didn't help. So, one day, Violet took off after Dylan and started punching him."

Penhall glanced at Violet, who was scribbling in a portfolio, apparently unaware of the conversation.

Hanson didn't appear to be breathing.

Penhall snapped his fingers at Hanson again.

"Deep breath!"

Hanson loudly inhaled.

The group was back to their former WWII discussion.


	10. Chapter Nine

"The general feeling toward violence at Juvenex is apathy." Penhall said.

"So…" Fuller led him on.

"So, once again, it could be anyone in the school." Penhall said, as he exasperatedly sat.

Fuller leaned in.

"What's wrong with Hanson?" he whispered.

Penhall looked across the room, at Hanson's desk, where Hanson was curled up in a ball on his chair.

Penhall shrugged.

"This case is really getting to him."

"Hm," Fuller looked worried.

An idea struck Penhall.

"You know how Hanson seems to have developed neurosis?" he excitedly said.

"Yeah?"

"There's this group, Teen Issues, where the worst kids in the school get together to talk about their issues…"

"Hence the name,"

"Right. If we can get Hanson in there…"

Fuller nodded.

"Good thinking."

Fuller immediately and gracefully returned to his office.

Penhall sighed.

'_Of course, he leaves it to me.'_

Penhall reluctantly stood, and strolled over to Hanson.

"Hey." Penhall leaned against Hanson's desk.

Hanson gave a nod of acknowledgment.

"Are you okay? You seem a little…"

"Tense?"

"Yeah,"

"This case just freaks me out, it's nothing."

Penhall could tell Hanson was lying.

"Do you think there's a reason it freaks you out?"

Hanson vigorously shook his head. He seemed a little _too _adverse to the idea.

Penhall sighed.

"So, you know about Teen Issues?"


	11. Chapter Ten

"Of course," Kevin said, "Anyone is welcome in Teen Issues."

Hanson smiled, but he still looked nervous; or maybe depressed. It was hard to tell.

"Thanks." Penhall grunted.

"Teen Issues is after lunch," Kevin opened the door, "See you there."

Hanson trudged out, Penhall following close behind.

"What's wrong?" Penhall asked, upon coming up to Hanson's side, "I thought you wanted to get off this case as soon as possible."

"I do," Hanson mumbled, "I'm just not very good at therapy."

"Therapy doesn't really require any skill."

"Alright, I'm not very good at talking about my complex, interpersonal issues with a bunch of stoner teenagers."

"You don't have to talk," Penhall assured him, "You just have to listen."

Hanson nodded.

Penhall was concerned about Hanson. He'd never seen him like this. Penhall was hoping that Teen Issues would not only help the case along, but maybe get Hanson to open up about the obvious ulterior reason for his current…state.

The two walked to fourth period, Penhall desperately attempting to squeeze palaver out of Hanson, and failing.


	12. Chapter Eleven

"Of course," Kevin said, "Anyone is welcome in Teen Issues."

Hanson smiled, but he still looked nervous; or maybe depressed. It was hard to tell.

"Thanks." Penhall grunted.

"Teen Issues is after lunch," Kevin opened the door, "See you there."

Hanson trudged out, Penhall following close behind.

"What's wrong?" Penhall asked, upon coming up to Hanson's side, "I thought you wanted to get off this case as soon as possible."

"I do," Hanson mumbled, "I'm just not very good at therapy."

"Therapy doesn't really require any skill."

"Alright, I'm not very good at talking about my complex, interpersonal issues with a bunch of stoner teenagers."

"You don't have to talk," Penhall assured him, "You just have to listen."

Hanson nodded.

Penhall was concerned about Hanson. He'd never seen him like this. Penhall was hoping that Teen Issues would not only help the case along, but maybe get Hanson to open up about the obvious ulterior reason for his current…state.

The two walked to fourth period, Penhall desperately attempting to squeeze palaver out of Hanson, and failing.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Penhall was leaning against the wall, outside Kevin's room. The poster with various STDs and their symptoms written in bright Crayola colors behind him rustled with each posture adjustment.

The door slowly pushed open. Kids began shuffling out. Penhall remained, waiting for Hanson to emerge.

Hanson was the last one. He didn't acknowledge Penhall's presence; he just kept walking.

Penhall sighed, and caught up to him.

"Well?"

Hanson shot him a glare.

"I can't believe you're making me sit through that."

"Come on, it can't be that bad."

"You're right, I enjoy listening to kids complain about their missing bong and the fact that their dealer raised his price by two dollars."

Penhall grinned.

"Really?"

Hanson nodded.

Penhall tried, he really did, to stifle his laugh.

"It's not funny!"

"No, not funny at all," Penhall said, between chuckles.

Hanson sighed.

"How about you join, too?"

Penhall stopped laughing.

"You're kidding, right?"

Hanson shook his head.

Penhall sighed.

"You're gonna make me go, aren't you?"

Hanson smiled wide.

Penhall sighed again.

Hanson seemed to cheer up. He still darted out of the way of every kid that came near them, but he was whistling now.

'_At least he's happy.' _Penhall thought, trying to focus on the positive, as h trudged behind Hanson.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Penhall had his feet up on the table of their seventh period science class. The teacher, Isaac, was yelling at the kids in the adjacent room to get to work and stop talking. Hanson was diligently taking notes on biology, still whistling.

Penhall had to solve this case as soon as possible, preferably today, so he wouldn't have to sit through Teen Issues.

He swung his feet off the table, and walked into the other room. The kids didn't seem to notice him sit in the nearest chair.

"Hey." Penhall said.

A girl with a really small head, wearing a loose sweater, glanced back from her play fight with a tall guy, whose name Penhall believed to be Alec.

"Hey," she responded, in a surprisingly low voice.

"I'm Doug."

"I'm Claire."

"I'm Becky." An abnormally normal looking girl, sitting on the counter next to a fish tank, said.

Penhall nodded in the direction of a kid who looked like Jesus.

"That's Ike." Becky said.

Ike lifted one of his headphone ears.

"What?" he said.

"This is Doug." Becky said.

"Hi." Ike said, replacing his headphones to their former position.

Penhall pondered how to get to the topic of Florence.

"Zach says you've been asking about the complete and total bitch." Becky said.

"Yeah," Penhall replied.

"Why?"

"I'm interested."

"You didn't even know her." Claire said, still punching Alec.

"So?"

It got quiet.

"Any idea who did it?" Penhall asked.

Silence again, aside from the faint bluegrass coming from Ike's headphones.

"I don't know." Becky said. Claire nodded.

"If you had to guess?"

"I still don't know." Becky said.

"What about Milton?"

The four started laughing.

"Yeah, right. Milton's not smart enough to kill anyone." Claire said.

"He doesn't have the balls to kill anyone, either." Alec said.

"He seems pretty violent, though."

"Yeah, well, he chases kids around with chairs and stuff, but he'd never actually hit them."

Penhall nodded.

The monotone bell sounded.

"Bye, Doug." Becky said, following Claire and Alec out.

Penhall returned to the other room. Hanson was intently focused on his textbook.

"Come on, let's go." Penhall said, starting to grab Hanson's collar.

Hanson scowled at Penhall.

"You can't just leave me like that! What's wrong with you?"

Penhall rolled his eyes and started to drag Hanson; Hanson, who continuously griped all the way out to the parking lot.

"Answer me, damnit!"

"Look," Penhall said, closing the car door, "I can't just guard you all the time. We have a case to solve, remember?"

Hanson sighed.

Penhall started the car.

"You could at least tell me when you're going." Hanson grumbled.

"Yes, dear," Penhall replied, grinning. Hanson grinned back and punched Penhall's shoulder.

"You really shouldn't punch the driver. Your life is in my hands."

Hanson rolled his eyes.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

"I think we can rule out Milton." Penhall said.

"Why?"

"I talked to some kids today. They don't think Milton's capable of killing anyone."

"What do you think?"

"I have to agree. He's not calculating enough to kill someone with a staple."

Fuller nodded.

Hanson sighed.

"So we're back to no suspects?" Hanson said.

Penhall nodded.

Hanson collapsed his head on the table.

"Fuck."

"There's still Teen Issues." Fuller said.

Penhall sighed.

"What?"

"I think…I think I should join Teen Issues." Penhall reluctantly stated.

Fuller nodded.

"Good idea. Two heads are better than one."

"Or one head is better than none." Penhall muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing,"

Fuller opened the door.

"Keep up the good work, fellas."

Penhall and Hanson walked out. Once Fuller's door was closed, Penhall jabbed his elbow into Hanson's side, who smirked.

"Surely you aren't harboring any violent tendencies."

Penhall glared. Hanson smirked again.

"You don't have to talk, remember? You just have to listen."

Penhall sighed.

"I'll get you for this."

Hanson maintained his grin, and jauntily strolled out the door.

Penhall followed, grumbling.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

_A/N: I've hit something of a writer's block, so I may be churning out the chaps a little slower than I have been previously. Sorry everyone! ((nervous grin))_

_Also, this takes place in the present, as opposed to the late 80s. You may have already figured this out, but I felt I should mention it, as it becomes apparent in this chapter._

-----------------

"Welcome to Teen Issues, Doug." Kevin said.

Penhall nodded.

"Introductions, everyone. Who wants to go first?"

A girl with faded red hair started.

"I'm Tabitha, I'm 19, and I'm here for drugs."

"I'm Ike, I'm 16, and I'm here for drugs."

"I'm Claire, I'm 15, and I'm here for drugs."

Penhall leaned back in his chair. This was going to be a _long _hour.

-----------------

"My parents are trying to make me go to rehab," Camille, a girl of medium height and many tiny tank tops, said, "I keep saying no, no, no."

Penhall rolled his eyes.

'_Okay, Amy Winehouse.'_

"Why not?" Kevin asked.

The room was silent.

"Come on, Kevin," Nicole said, "You can't just _go _to rehab."

"Why not?"

"You just can't." Rose said, as she texted.

"Why don't you want to go, Camille? Aside from not wanting to stop doing drugs."

It was quiet again.

"Is there any other reason I wouldn't want to go?"

"You tell me."

Penhall glanced at Hanson, who was curled up on his chair. He actually looked relatively calm, probably because no one was paying any attention to him.

Camille shrugged.

Kevin nodded.

"I think you're afraid to stop using because of your friends."

It got quiet again.

Really, really quiet.

"That's not true," Camille quietly said, "If I quit, they'd still be my friends."

Penhall scanned the room, trying to find the looks of encouragement and support her friends should be giving her.

'Should' being the operative word.

"Right?" Camille asked, a little louder this time.

Rose was still texting, Nicole was gazing out the window.

"Well?" Kevin said.

Rose flipped her phone shut, continuing to avoid eye contact with Camille.

Nicole wasn't really gazing anymore as much as she was fixedly staring out the window.

"Really?" Camille said, her voice raspy and tense.

It was really, really, really quiet again, and it remained so until the bell sounded.

Camille darted from the room before the bell had even finished its monotonous ring. The rest of the group lazily propped themselves to their feet, and shuffled out the door, one after another.

Once the room was clear, Penhall grabbed Hanson's collar and dragged him to their last class, pondering what had just happened.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

"It's weird," Penhall said, "It's like the basis of all their relationships is drugs."

Fuller nodded.

"It's just…weird."

Fuller nodded again.

"Can we get back to the case, please?" Hanson said, with an annoyed tone.

"Fine," Fuller said, "What have you got?"

Penhall shrugged.

"Nothing new, really."

Hanson sighed.

Fuller glanced at him.

"We might have, if I could somehow find some help." Penhall snapped.

Fuller glanced at Penhall.

"We might have, if someone could stop wondering about the interpersonal relationships of our suspects and focus on the murder investigation." Hanson snapped back.

Fuller glanced again at Hanson.

"If someone could actually walk around instead of being dragged."

Fuller glanced at Penhall.

"If someone could stop getting distracted by the drama."

Fuller glanced at Hanson.

"If someone --"

"Stop it," Fuller said, "If you two have a beef, I suggest you grill it up and eat it. Now."

With that, he walked into his office.

Penhall and Hanson sat together for a few moments, each waiting for the other to talk.

Hanson wasn't saying anything, and Penhall didn't want to sit here forever. So, he stood, and began to storm out.

"Wait." Hanson said.

Penhall spun around.

"What?"

Hanson motioned towards the chair. Penhall sighed, and plopped back into his seat.

"Look, I'm sorry I've been acting --"

"Neurotic?"

"Yeah,"

"Be sorry all you want, but it's got to stop."

Hanson nodded.

"Is there any reason? Or have you lost the prescription to your anti-psychotics and your shrink is out of town?"

Hanson gave a queasy smile.

"Come on, I know it's not the latter."

Hanson sighed.

"Fine, I'll tell you."

Penhall nodded.

Hanson took a deep breath.

"Okay. I've always wanted to be a cop. This ambition got way more intense after my dad died. So, when I was 17, I was patrolling outside my school --"

Penhall chuckled.

Hanson glared.

"What? It's funny!"

"Forget it."

"No, no, go on, I'm sorry."

"Anyway, I was patrolling, and I caught a bunch of the alternative high school kids smoking on school grounds."

"Did you write them a ticket?" Penhall grinned.

Hanson glared again.

"I told them to either stop or leave, but they didn't listen, so I got the school security guard. As soon as they saw him, they bolted. I felt pretty good about myself."

Penhall nodded.

"About a week later, I was playing with my hamster, MacGyver, in our front yard. He ran into the street, and I chased after him. When I was within three feet of him, a red car came speeding out of nowhere and crushed him. I just stood there, completely shocked. Then, one of the alternative kids got out of the car, picked up MacGyver's body, and threw it at me, while yelling, 'Mind your own fucking business!'. And then they just drove away."

Hanson stopped.

Penhall stared at him.

"Seriously?"

Hanson nodded melancholically.

'_Must…not…laugh.'_

The muscles on Penhall's face were tight, trying to hold back his cackle.

Hanson looked on the verge of tears. Penhall slowly extended his arm, to pat Hanson's shoulder. He couldn't move too fast, or he'd start cracking up.

'_Must…not…laugh.'_

Hanson glanced up, an appreciative look on his face.

"Thanks, man."

Penhall nodded.

'_Must…not…laugh.'_

"What do you say?"

'_Shit.'_

Penhall opened his mouth, and immediately burst into laughter, each guffaw releasing tension.

After a few minutes, Penhall began to settle down. When he looked up, he caught Hanson's glare. Not just any glare, this was a major fucking glare. Penhall could almost feel the daggers stabbing into his chest.

"Sorry." Penhall coughed.

GLARE.

"Seriously, I really am sorry. Come on, man. You had a hamster named MacGyver! You don't find that amusing?"

GLARE.

"Not even a little?"

The GLARE loosened, ever so slightly.

"Not amusing even on a microscopic level?"

Hanson smiled, barely.

"Okay, yes, it's a little funny."

Penhall grinned broadly.

"So that's why you're so scared of alternatives?"

Hanson nodded.

"You don't even have a hamster anymore."

"I know, I know."

"You're a trained cop."

"I know, I know."

"You now have the authority to bust their asses."

"I know, I know."

"You own a gun."

"I know, I know."

"Do I really need to keep going? Do you realize that this fear is completely irrational?"

"I know, I know --"

"Stop saying that."

"I just can't make it go away."

"Maybe you should see your shrink? Once he's back in town, I mean?"

Hanson smiled. Penhall smiled back.

"I'll try to be better, I promise." Hanson said.

"Good," Penhall said, "Can I go home now?"

Hanson nodded. Penhall grabbed his coat and began to leave.

"Doug?"

Penhall glanced back.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_A/N: Must…not…be…distracted…by…Tetris…and…inane TV specials about random things like 'Star Wars' and Jeffrey Dahmer…_

-----------------

"You ready?" Penhall asked.

Hanson weakly nodded.

Penhall opened his door, looking back at Hanson, who remained motionless.

"Come on, man."

Hanson took a deep breath. He pulled the handle of his door, opening it with a pop.

Penhall slowly stood. He looked back again.

"Hanson."

Hanson shakily emerged from the car.

Penhall sighed and started walking into the school. He could hear Hanson's light footsteps behind him.

The school was quiet. This was good.

Penhall glanced at Hanson. He was walking, steadily. He was obviously using all his strength to do so, but it was progress nonetheless.

"FUCK YOU!"

Juvenex silence was extremely fleeting.

Penhall outstretched his arm, to stop the running Hanson. His hand grabbed air. It took Penhall a moment to process this.

He jerked his vision towards Hanson. Hanson was still walking, still intently staring at his feet, but still walking. Penhall attempted to stifle his proud grin. Proud grins were not manly.

They made it to their first class. Justin was coloring. Hanson collapsed into his chair.

"Good job." Penhall said. Hanson raised a decrepit hand in acknowledgment.

Justin began to rant about an emu/velociraptor conspiracy. Penhall hoped this wouldn't freak Hanson out too much; Hanson, who luckily appeared to be in his "special place", a beneficial place to have for someone as high-strung as he was.

Penhall leaned back in his chair, and kicked something. He bent under the table, to see a notebook. He picked it up. Something was written in Sharpie on the cover.

'_Ten/Jack/Master FTW!'_

Penhall had no idea what this meant. He opened the notebook, to see more writing, in two different hands.

Car is a red Toyota. License plate 254-MCN

9371 S. Forrest Drive

Leaves house at approx. 7:30 am. Returns approx. 4:30 pm.

Penhall continued to peruse the notes. They only ran through about a quarter of the book. He knew, he just _knew_, they were about Florence.

He glanced up at Hanson, who still looked exhausted.

"Hanson?"

Hanson didn't respond.

"Hanson." Penhall said again, aiming a slight kick to Hanson's shin. Hanson shuddered awake.

"What?" he asked, obviously annoyed.

Penhall passed him the notebook. Hanson flipped through the pages, his eyes growing wider with every passing word.

Finally, he clapped the book shut. Penhall motioned for him to join him at the other end of the room, where no one could overhear them.

"What do you think it means?" Hanson asked.

"I think they were stalking her before they actually killed her."

"Well, yeah, you don't just _randomly _kill someone with a staple. It's doubtlessly premeditated."

"So what should we do with this?"

Hanson paused.

"Do you think it's possible to get handwriting samples? From everyone?"

Penhall blinked at Hanson.

"You're kidding, right?"

"What else can we do? Run around school shouting 'Ten/Jack/Master FTW!' hoping someone recognizes it and responds?"

Penhall grinned. Hanson violently shook his head.

"No fucking way, man."

"Alright, how do you suggest we obtain handwriting samples from 75 people without them knowing it?"

Hanson stopped. He blankly gazed at the ground, deep in thought. Penhall found it amusing that he was actually trying to find a way to do something impossible.

Penhall waited.

And waited.

Hanson was obviously not going to give up on this one.

The only sound was Justin, still raving about emus.

Penhall's patience wore thin.

"Come on, Hanson."

Hanson shot him a glare.

"I am _not _going to run through an exciting alternative high school shouting 'Ten/Jack/Master FTW' in the hopes of catching staple murderers. I'm just not."

"Fine. I'll do it myself."

"Works for me."

That interaction went differently in Penhall's mind.

"You can't just let me do it on my own! Don't you feel obligated or something?"

"Not in the least."

Hanson beamed at him. Penhall glowered.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

"Ready?" Hanson asked, in a disgustingly chipper voice.

Penhall snarled at him.

"Good. Remember, nice and loud."

Penhall stepped to the edge of the atrium. He took a deep breath, and shouted,

"Ten/Jack/Master FTW!"

It rang through the school, bringing all conversation to a halt and all eyes to Penhall.

"Yes!" came two voices shouting. Penhall frantically darted his gaze across the tables before him.

Mia and Alice had their fists pumped in the air, grinning broadly.

Penhall disbelievingly stared.

'_Wave. Smile. Do something.' _He couldn't.

"No way." Hanson said.

Penhall nodded, and slid back against the glass railing, hitting the ground.

"We have to talk to them."

"And say what, exactly?"

"Gee, I don't know, maybe 'You have the right to remain silent'."

"You really think what I just did will be enough to hold up this case in court? We need something more. Something substantial."

Hanson joined him on the ground.

"We could still go with handwriting samples."

"So you've had a brilliant idea as to how to get them?"

"Yes, actually."

"Why don't you share this revelation?"

"We could fake a petition, something Mia and Alice would want to sign."

Penhall paused.

"That…might actually work."

Hanson smirked. Penhall sighed.

"Fine, you were right, I was wrong."

"Thank you."

"Why didn't you say this before?"

"I wanted to see you shout 'Ten/Jack/Master FTW' to the school."

Hanson smirked again. Penhall rolled his eyes.

"What do you think that even means?"

Hanson shrugged.

"It's not really important," was all he had to say, "We have more important things to focus on. Like what we should be petitioning."

Penhall pondered. Hanson appeared to as well.

"Smoking breaks?" Hanson finally said.

"Mia and Alice don't smoke."

"Got any better ideas?"

Penhall paused.

"It's worth a shot." Hanson said.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

"We need an official looking petition sheet." Penhall said.

Fuller nodded.

"May I ask why?"

"We have a lead and need to get handwriting samples."

"What lead?"

Penhall explained the notebook.

"We figured the best way to weed out the writers was to use one of their phrases, to see if they reacted."

Penhall stopped.

"And?" Fuller led him on.

Hanson was happy to take over.

"Penhall shouted 'Ten/Jack/Master FTW' from the atrium, and a couple of girls, Mia and Alice, responded."

"What does that even mean?"

"That's what I asked." Penhall said.

"Ten/Jack/Master FTW?" Blowfish asked, while passing.

"Yeah."

"That's a 'Doctor Who' slash fandom phrase."

It was quiet as Hanson, Penhall, and Fuller stared at Blowfish, who sighed.

"'Doctor Who' is a British TV show. Ten refers to the tenth reincarnation of the Doctor. Jack and the Master are other characters. Ten/Jack/Master FTW, or For The Win, is a term that expresses the fan speaking its desire for the Doctor, Jack, and the Master to get it on."

The staring continued.

"How exactly do you know that, Blowfish?" asked Fuller.

"Keep your ear to the ground." Blowfish replied, wheeling his bucket away.

A few silent moments passed.

"Anyway…"

"I'll see what I can do." Fuller said, walking away.

Once Fuller was out of earshot, Hanson started laughing hysterically. Penhall glared at him.

"It's not funny!"

Hanson grinned.


	21. Chapter Twenty

_A/N: In my defense, it was 11 pm, I was sugar high, and I was watching 'Golden Girls'._

-----------------

BOOM.

Penhall violently twitched. Hanson jumped about two feet in the air.

"What the hell was that?"

No one else seemed to react.

"It's Juvenex," said Mia, "Random explosions are the norm."

Penhall glanced at Hanson, who was slightly trembling.

"Anyway," Penhall said, "Tom and I have started a petition."

Penhall found it amusing that this statement evoked the same lack of reaction as the explosion.

"What's it for?" chirped Violet.

"Smoking breaks."

Yet that statement evoked much reaction.

"I don't smoke."

"But it'd be nice to have extra free time."

"What if we're _required _to smoke?"

"…"

"Josh, stop talking."

"Yeah, I'd like more time to surf the intarwebz."

"Why can't you just say internet like everyone else?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with a response."

"It'd also be nice to be rid of Mac for 15 minutes."

"Hey, he's pretty cool."

"Josh, _stop talking_."

Penhall zoned out. You were likely to have a seizure if you listened to them for an extended period of time. Finally, the discussion started to wane.

"I'll sign it." Alice said.

Penhall suppressed a smile. Finally, this case would come to a close. Maybe. Hopefully.

The faint sound of scribbling could be heard as the clipboard was passed around. It eventually came back to Penhall, who tried to refrain from excitedly studying the signatures.

The monotone bell sounded. Penhall immediately leapt up and scampered off, giggling.

He arrived at the car. Hanson quietly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Yeah?" Penhall said, before letting out a fangirl squeal. Hanson sighed.

"You're really _that _tired of this case?"

"_You _haven't been shouting exclamations of desire for gay sex and dragging around a neurotic 24 year old."

Hanson paused.

"True."

Penhall plopped into the seat of the car, carefully placing the petition in the back seat. As they drove, he checked every so often to make sure it was safe.

They pulled up to a stoplight. Penhall sighed.

"This drive is taking foreverrrrrr."

"Patience is a virtue."

"I don't carrrrre."

Hanson rolled his eyes.


	22. Chapter Twenty One

Penhall collapsed into a chair.

"Have the handwriting tests come back yet?" he asked Fuller.

Fuller nodded.

"And?"

Fuller grinned. Penhall bounced to his feet.

"Yes!" He pumped his fist into the air.

-----------------

"Alright, how are we going to do this?" Penhall asked.

Hanson paused.

"I mean, in front of the whole school, or quiet and private?"

"How about a happy medium?"

"Never say that again."

"What classes do they have now?"

"I think Mia's in Natalie's, and Alice is in Blake's."

"I'll take Mia, you take Alice." Hanson said, before walking off. Penhall tried to remember where Blake's room was. He finally settled on wandering aimlessly until he found it. He wasn't very deductive.

He strolled alongside a wall, peering into each room he passed. Before long, he found Alice, stretched out under a table.

"Alice?" he said. She turned her head, blinking.

"What do you want?" she croaked. Penhall grinned. This was his favorite part.

He whipped out his badge. Alice's eyes widened for a moment, before a slight smile formed.

"You have nothing."

Penhall grinned wider.

"Wanna bet?"

The class was silent, watching the scene unfold, undoubtedly stoked that something interesting was happening.

Alice sighed. She crawled out, and walked to Penhall, arms drawn before her.

"You have the right to remain silent…"


	23. Epilouge

Penhall's eyes were closed, his head against the table.

"Oh, I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves! Everybody's nerves! Everybody's nerves! Oh, I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, and this is how it goes! Bum bum bum!" Mia and Alice sang in unison, as they had been for the last hour.

"Shut up!" Penhall screeched.

A portentous quiet befell the room.

"OOOOOOOH I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves!"

"What can I do to make you stop?!"

"Let us go!"

"I…can't…do…that!" Penhall said, bashing his head against the table with every word.

"Can you get my laptop?"

Penhall stalked to Mia's bag, ripped out the black computer, and shoved it through the bars of the cell.

"This is expensive! Treat it with respect!"

Penhall snarled at them. Mia grinned.

Penhall returned to the table, and to his former position. Wonderful silence.

"HE WATCHES IT ALL FOR YOU, JOEL MCHALE!" Penhall snapped up. Loud applause and cheers came from Mia's laptop.

"What the fuck is that?!" he yelled.

"'The Soup'!"

Penhall gave a loud sigh, praying for mercy, but to no avail.

'_God is truly dead.'_

He felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Fuller, with two officers behind him.

"Thank you." Penhall said, his voice wavering with gratefulness.

He watched as the officers handcuffed the two girls.

"She deserved it." Mia said, trying to pry her laptop from one of the officer's hands.

"No one deserves to be killed with a staple."

"What about Idi Amin?" Alice said.

Penhall stared at her.

"Genocidal dictator? Uganda? Ringing any bells?"

"Ignore her." Mia said.

"Do you two ever stop?"

"No." they both said.

"Have fun in prison."

"We're going to beat this. You watch."

Penhall smiled.

"Okay crazy."

"Aw, who spoiled the surprise of our defense?" Alice said, smiling back.

He rolled his eyes.

"Ta-ta." They were lugged away.

Penhall turned to Fuller.

"Do you think that'll work?"

"They're probably sociopaths, and can therefore manipulate the jury with ease."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Yes."

Penhall sighed.

"It's not like state mental hospitals are a picnic, either." Fuller said.

Penhall sighed again, and began to gather his things.

"You did good work, Penhall. That's all you can do."

Penhall nodded.

-----------------

Penhall absentmindedly flipped through the channels. It was nearly midnight. He passed infomercial after infomercial.

'Doctor Who' passed. Penhall paused and pondered.

He backtracked to the channel.

"Say my name."

"Master…I'm sorry."

Penhall grinned sleepily.

-----------------

_A/N: So, this is the end. ((sniff)) It's been fun. Thanks to smrt1. I couldn't have done it without her. Thanks to my reviewers. I've used all my clever compliments, so…you're awesome! Don't ever change! HAGS!_


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